Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(38)

Slipping her hands in her pockets, Eve shifted. “Sex is a kind of power center for her. Another lover, or former lover. Somebody she can play victim to, or try to bribe.

“Somebody,” she muttered, “I don’t have on the board yet. But I will.”

“I have no doubt, but it won’t be tonight. You’re spinning, Lieutenant. Time to let it sit and brew a bit.”

“I’m leaning toward someone connected, like she is, to Natural Order. And someone close enough geographically to meet Gwen, take the key, get downtown. Somebody, most likely, with personal transportation, because it’s a pretty narrow window.”

She paced another minute. “And somebody who’d kill without hesitation. Walk into the apartment, go up to the studio, pick up the hammer. Bam. No attempt at persuasion, bribery, threats. Just end it.”

She turned back to Roarke. “That’s not spinning, that’s logic.”

“It is, yes. But as you don’t have candidates for that position, as yet, and won’t likely get any until you squeeze Gwen a bit more, or EDD comes through, you’ll be back to spinning.”

“I can do a search for members of Natural Order who live within the geographic range, then filter to ones most likely to know my prime suspect.”

“You can, and should. Why don’t I set that up for you?”

He walked to her command center, sat, and began what would—she knew—take her three times as long.

“Of course,” he continued as he worked, “it may be someone outside this range who happened to be inside it for a variety of reasons. Dinner, a meeting, work, or any number of engagements or activities.”

He glanced up at her frown. “Which you’ve already considered.”

“I have to start somewhere. I can’t filter it by gender, even if it’s a sexual connection. I don’t know if she’s bi. No condoms at her place, but her male partners may bring their own. She sure as hell doesn’t want to get pregnant before the I dos. No oral birth control at her apartment, but she may opt, and probably does, for longer-term internal.”

She gave Merit Caine’s photo a study. “I think I’m going to have to ask the ex-fiancé a couple of very personal questions.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Job done, he rose. “And I suspect he’d be in the mood to cooperate. Now, you’ll have your candidates in the morning, with a secondary list of any arrested for a violent crime.”

“Money’s a weapon, too. It could be somebody who needs it. She says get this woman off my back and I’ll pay you.”

“And, of course, I’m happy to pry into the financial business of any you select.”

He took her hand to draw her out of the room. “Tomorrow. You’ve some debt of your own to pay off.”

“I could work this another hour, then pay up.”

“Let it brew.”

Because she knew he had it right, she didn’t argue. It needed to sit until she could look at it with fresh eyes, could think about it with a rested brain.

“The connection to Shelby, that was a lucky break. You can’t count on luck, but you use it when it falls in your lap. I think I’ll pay a visit to the rejected bride in the morning, too.”

“If she has any sense at all, she’ll have a new lawyer by morning.”

“Maybe, maybe not. She’s the type who thinks she’s so irresistible she could lure the fiancé back with enough pretty tears.”

“I believe that would take more than tears, however pretty.”

“I’d say add sex, but I’m not sure about that.”

“I am,” he said as he tugged her into the bedroom.

“You’re always sure about sex. Maybe I’m too tired.”

“Want a wager on that?” He scooped her off her feet. “I’m feeling lucky.”

He carried her to the big bed and, careful to miss the cat already stretched over it, dumped her. Before Galahad finished muttering and leaping off, Roarke dropped down on Eve, body to body.

Eve twined some of his hair around her finger. “Maybe I’m not in the mood.”

“We’ll up the wager. Double or nothing.”

“What’s double?”

He closed his teeth over her jaw, worked slowly around. “I have you twice.” And his hand slid stealthily, skillfully between her legs.

“That’s cheating.”

“I call it improving the odds.” He flipped open the button of her trousers.

“I don’t make sucker bets.” Reaching up, she unbuttoned his shirt. “And I pay my debts.” Still, she ran her hand down his side. “How are the ribs?”

“They’re fine enough.”

No heat there, she confirmed. “They took a pounding.”

“Cobbe took a harder one.”

“True.” Now she stroked a hand on his cheek. “And it was pretty sexy, all in all, watching you kick a contract killer’s ass. In fact…”

Lightning fast, she scissored her legs, made her move, and reversed their positions. Then she scooted up to straddle him. “Now that you’re all healed up, I don’t have to be gentle with you and hold back.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been holding back?”